Lipstick Traces
by kimpy
Summary: Bella Swan finds herself free from her significant other, and undergoes a transformation into a new, self-confident, independent woman. Part of her transformation involves new experiences of the most delicious kind. O/S Fem slash written for MsKathy


**LIPSTICK TRACES**

**DRABBLE FOR MsKATHY **

**(Since she didn't get to buy one for FGB)**

I was finished with him. It occurred to me that he no longer deserved to be with me; I'm worth more than he was giving me credit for. I'd never done anything so bold as to break up with a guy, but even I had had enough. I decided I was no longer afraid of what being alone entailed, especially if it meant I never had to face that asshole again. I took a deep, cleansing breath in and out, and allowed my mind to be clear of the clutter his antics had left. The cobwebs were stripped away.

_I AM FREE!!!_

It felt so fucking good to be able to say that. It's never been true before. Now it's time to celebrate. Create a new me, one that matches the way I feel inside.

_Hair cut and colored_

_Full leg wax_

_Brow wax_

_Pedicure_

_Manicure_

_And fuck it all—bare pussy_

The stylist cuts off eight inches of hair, so my long scraggly locks fall just below my shoulder. He gets rid of the grays with a gorgeous shade of espresso. Once he flat ironed it, my hair looks healthy and shiny. He understands that I am undergoing a transformation of sorts, and asks the cosmetic specialist to give me a complimentary make-up application. I can't remember the last time I wore make-up willingly.

When he uncovers my eyes and shows me the end result, I'm in awe. I don't even recognize myself, in a good way.

_I'm….pretty?!_

Fuck it all, I'm out to conquer the world! In order to do that, I need serious clothes. Clothes that mean business. I am a woman, and I want to celebrate that. I've spent too many years hiding away under drab clothes that hide my figure. My curves may be far from perfect, but they are mine, and I'm a woman. It's the way we're meant to be. In fact, if I had to categorize myself, I would be Venus de Milo. I know, because I looked it up one day. I spent nearly an entire lunch break staring at the statue, from all various points of view. The womanly hips, the less-than-flat stomach, the hourglass shape. I had it all, except my tits were a lot bigger than hers. I chuckle to myself humorlessly, remembering with bitterness that my former lover felt my breasts were the only admirable quality I possessed; he was _so_ wrong.

I decide the best way to celebrate one's body, and embrace one's figure, is via lingerie. I've never, ever bought myself lingerie. Bras and underwear don't count, because they aren't anything special. They are everyday. I'm talking about something sexy, that no one else can see or feel. Wearing it simply because I can, because I want to be stealthily sexy. I walk into Victoria's Secret for the very first time. I'm instantly confused and intimidated by the amount of undergarments surrounding me. I panic.

_Ican'tdothisIcan'tdothisIcan'tdothis!!!!_

_FUCK YOU, yes I fucking CAN do this. I WILL do this._

I take another one of those deep, cleansing breaths I've been practicing for weeks now and feel a little calmer.

_Okay, now BROWSE!_

I'm actually surprised at all the beautiful things I see in the store. These are things that celebrate what is beautiful about being a woman. I feel a momentary pang of sadness, knowing that I'm doing this for no one beside myself. I have no idea if anyone will ever see me in lingerie again. If I had to make an estimate, I would say I will probably never have sex again. Honestly, though, that doesn't mean I appreciate my form any less. It doesn't mean I don't deserve to be admired or loved. Those thoughts make it possible for me to soldier forward.

There are several bra and panty sets on display that I would really like to try on, but I have no idea what size I even am anymore. God knows the last time I was really measured for a bra. I swallow hard, and ask a salesperson for measuring assistance. She takes out the measuring tape, and I suddenly feel my face flush. I feel like I'm in the Chicago Stockyards, being weighed and measured like a cut of beef. This woman is completely impersonal. She is tiny, petite, and adorable—nothing like me. She has a look in her eye that tells me, "_You don't belong here. Why do you even bother? Go to JC Penney's, Fatso."_ I feel the tears form in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. She will not get that satisfaction from being rude and hideous to another human being. No one deserves to be treated like this, not even me.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she spits out without the least bit of remorse. "You're just too big for anything we carry here."

I turn around and march right out of the store. Curiously, I don't feel deflated, like I thought I would. I feel empowered.

_Oh, Little Miss Skinny Bitch? I'm going to find myself lingerie to die for, and I will feel so much better about myself than you ever will, so you can just go fuck yourself gently with a chainsaw._

I take another deep breath, but this isn't to bolster me up; this is to get me centered and ready for the task at hand.

_Nordstroms, here I come. I'm willing you to find me the perfect lingerie._

I enter the lingerie section, and am instantly pleased when someone who is much more "Venus" than "Skinny Bitch" walks up to help me. In no time, we are in a private area, and she is respectfully measuring me. There is no snide look when she refers to my size. She asks me plainly what it is I'm looking for.

"I want to find beautiful lingerie that makes me feel secretly sexy. I want to have that confidence of knowing how beautiful I am underneath my clothes. I don't care if no one will ever see it; I will, and that's all that matters to me."

"Have you ever considered a corset, my dear?"

"Uh, no. Actually, I never have. I just assumed I was too big to wear one."

"Oh no, they come in all shapes and sizes. Come with me, I think I know just the thing."

She pulls out a black corset, simple, yet beautiful. It has silver closures in front, but it laces up the back. It has straps that are meant to be worn off the shoulder. Garters hang from the bottom. The corset is paired with a pair of sheer black panties that leave nothing to the imagination.

"What do you think?"

"Oh my god, it's perfect!"

I see her smile with satisfaction. _Damn, she's good!_

"Why don't you go try it on?"

I enter the dressing room with anticipation. I slide the satin fabric over my skin. It feels so cool and smooth, I am instantly enticed. I slip my arms through the straps, then reach behind my back to tighten the laces. As I cinch it closed, my waist is accentuated, and the tops of my breasts barely spill out from the cups. The effect is very sexy, and I like it. _A lot._

I slip the panties on over the ones I'm wearing, just for an idea of how it looks together. It has a series of keyholes that run along my crack; when I observe it in the mirror, I'm almost shocked at how fucking hot it looks. I sigh deeply. Again, it is sad that no one will ever be able to appreciate this on me, but I know I will always feel sexy wearing it, and that is what drives my shopping today.

Satisfied that I found what I was looking for, I have the saleswoman find a pair of thigh-high stockings for me, so that I can make use of the garters and complete the package.

I rush home, because I want the time to appreciate the luxurious fabrics against my skin, and to primp and preen in front of the mirror. I've never felt motivated to do this before, but I feel a thrill rush through me, almost like I'm breaking a taboo. I'm turning myself on immeasurably.

Half a bottle of red wine later, I'm parading around my house in a corset, sheer panties, and thigh high stockings, complete with fuck me pumps. I can hardly believe it's my image looking back at me from the mirror. My hair, my make-up, my body, it's almost foreign to me.

_I love feeling like this. I want to capture this feeling and remember it when I feel small and defeated. I want to bottle it up, so I can spritz it on whenever I need it. _

The wine is messing with my head, giving me a false sense of confidence.

_What's wrong with false confidence? It's confidence, after all._

That's when the idea strikes. It's a bad idea. I know that the moment it erupts into my conscious brain. Which is exactly why I don't even think twice.

_DO IT! DOITDOITDOIT!!!_

I slip on my coat, buttoning it closed, and tying the waist. It's short enough to show my knees. I look into the mirror, shake my head, and head out the door before I can second-guess myself.

The night air is chilly, which wakes me up a bit. I walk briskly to the wine bar around the corner, where a jazz trio is playing live music tonight. I find a small table for two in the corner and seat myself. I order a bottle of wine and sit quietly, absorbing the music through my pores. I close my eyes, a feeling of bliss washing over me. I hear a chair scrape across the floor, and instantly, my eyes pop open.

_She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen._

I can feel my eyes widen. Her hair is blue black, her dress is deep blue, and she looks like liquid sex. As in, she could melt into your body, morphing into your perfect lover. It doesn't matter who you are, or what you want. This woman _knows_.

I'm too shocked and amazed to say anything. She takes my breath away.

"It seems wrong that you are sitting here, alone, with this bottle of wine. I wonder if you want some company?"

My mind tells me, "_NO! Danger, Will Robinson, Danger!"_

My body tells me, _"FUCK yes!"_

I listen to my body.

"Yes." My voice fucking cracks as I say it, I'm so nervous.

She just smiles. Her lips remind me of sex when she smiles. I have a sudden urge to lean over and trace the bottom lip with my tongue. It is full and pouty, just begging to be kissed. She doesn't bother to procure her own wine glass; she takes a deep sip from mine. I watch her neck as she swallows, and I've never seen anything like it. I want to trace the wine's path all the way down to her ample cleavage.

She leaves a trace of lipstick on the glass. Blood red. Normally, that would be a deal breaker for me—I _hate_ lipstick on the rim of the glass. But this is _her_ lipstick, outlining that puffy pout, and all I want to do is lick it, put my lips over it, feel that trace of her left on my glass.

_What the hell is wrong with me? I've never even looked at another woman before. Why am I suddenly so attracted to her? Is it because I'm hard up?_

I tell my Id to shut the fuck up and to listen to my Ego. She is all about the Pleasure Principle. Screw the Reality Principle. I unconsciously lick my lips, thinking about hers.

I feel a hand on my knee. I start a bit, because I'm so unused to feeling a pleasurable touch. She starts to rub her hand back and forth, reassuringly, soothing my nerves away. I slump a little bit in my chair, causing her hand to move slightly higher. I feel my breath hitch, and I know she hears it. She smiles again, all sex.

_I want her._

_I want her?_

_Yes, goddammit, I want her!_

I moan just a little, to let her know she has struck pay dirt. She answers by moving her chair closer to mine. Close enough that I can smell her.

She leans over to me and whispers, "Should we make this a private party?"

My breath hitches again. "Oh! I've never…uh…"

"That doesn't matter. What do you _want_?"

I whimper uncontrollably. This woman has wiped my slate clean. Does it really matter that I've never been with another woman? Will I ever forgive myself if I don't give her a try?

I'm so excited and anxious all I can do is grab her hand. We quickly exit the bar, hand in hand.

Outside, she walks next to me for a few paces, then suddenly stops. I'm worried she's changed her mind. When I feel her pout on my lips, I know that we're right where we need to be. Her lips are warm and wet and I feel like they were fashioned just for me. She has a slightly fruity taste when I take her lip between mine. I give it a slight nibble, and she moans in my mouth.

_Heavenly._

She pulls herself closer to me, and her tongue moves against my lips. I invite her in, willingly. Her kiss is so different than kissing a man. It is soft, yet raw, sweet, yet potent. It is hungry and passionate, but in a refined way. It's like nothing I've ever felt before, and my pussy is suddenly drenched. I feel the wetness on my thighs, and it only excites me more.

"My house is only a few blocks from here. Will you come with me?" I intended that to sound deliberately naughty.

Her voice is slightly husky, which only incites a riot down south. "Of course. Many times."

I hook my hand in hers, and we walk briskly in the direction of my place.

I unlock the door, and we both practically run through the entryway to achieve our sanctuary, the only place where I can properly worship this goddess. As I shut the door behind me, she presses against me, grabbing one of my thighs and hitching it around her hip. She feels the garter on my stocking and her eyes cloud with lust. It also registers that I have nothing on besides the stockings.

_I'm so glad I didn't bother with clothes._

Her fingers slip up the bottom of my panties, so I feel her on the bare flesh of my ass. My body responds to her instantly with goose bumps. I've never reacted to a lover this way; my responses are on automatic pilot. I can't help myself. I'm panting heavily, moaning, feeling every little thing she does to me. It's like she lit me on fire, and now I'm a raging inferno. I want her more than I've wanted anything in my life. I'm suddenly sexually alive, and I fucking love it.

She mumbles, "Too many layers," then promptly begins to remove my coat. My legs start to shake. I'm so excited, it's affecting me in strange and exotic ways. I never imagined someone could induce goose bumps and shaking legs; I always thought those were fictional, fairy tale renditions of romance and love.

She gasps slightly when she sees what I'm wearing. As her eyes drink me in, I focus on how my corset feels—it's a mixture of constraining and defining, and all together satisfying. Bras always feel restrictive to me, but this? It feels like a hug of self-confidence.

Her hands go straight to my breasts as she buries her nose in my cleavage. I close my eyes in order to focus on the sensations of her moving over my skin. I have no idea what to expect from her, from this, and that makes it even more exciting. She manages to free one of my breasts from the corset and gives my nipple a hard pinch. The feeling is so intense, my knees buckle. She wraps her arms around me and whispers the question, "Bed?"

I motion with my head, and she turns me so that I'm walking backwards towards my bedroom. Her hands gently cup my ass as she moves us along. I moan loudly, and her sex smile spreads over that beautiful mouth, and all I can do is kiss it.

When we arrive at my bed, she pushes me downwards, so I'm sitting on the edge. She deftly unties her wrap dress, and shrugs it off onto the ground.

_Oh, sweet jesus, it's the corset! MY corset!_

I really didn't think it was possible for me to become wetter, but my thighs are now slick. I've never been this turned on before and I'm incredulous. Her lips return to mine, drinking me in, and I cannot get enough. I'm not over thinking anything at this point; my body is running on pure, basic instinct. I no longer have control over any of my actions.

_I'm making out with a woman!_

I never even thought about having sex with another woman; it has never entered my realm of possibility. Suddenly, I get the sense that I've been doing this wrong my entire life. She feels so right. This feels so right. This is what kissing is all about.

She spreads my legs, and I can see the outline of my pussy through the sheer panties. It's stunning. I've never really looked at it closely before; it never occurred to me to check it out. Before I can even consider what I'm doing, I feel her run her thumb over my slit, and she discovers exactly what she's doing to me.

Suddenly, she backs away, grabbing her purse from the floor. She takes out a tube of lipstick and quickly applies it to her lips. She drops to her knees in front of me, and suddenly, it appears as though my goddess is worshipping me. She skims her nose along my inner thigh, as her hands move up the outside in a coordinated effort. Unconsciously, I snake my hands into her hair. When her nose reaches the apex of my legs, she pauses and inhales deeply. Without warning, she abruptly turns her face to her right and plants an open-mouthed kiss there. Looking down at her, between my legs, with her marking on me goes straight to my clit. I _need _her.

"More. Please, more."

She says nothing, just looking at me with her sex smile. She snakes her tongue out and runs it up and down my slit. Being able to feel her on me, indirectly, through the sheer material between us, drives me insane. I need to feel her in me. I wiggle my hips in protest, and she acquiesces; I watch as she slips my panties off. She parts my legs widely, gently separating my lips.

"Do you want me to touch you here?" _She already fucking knows the answer to that question._

"Yes, please."

She gently slides two fingers inside me, and I feel a tinge of relief. It is short-lived. I'm greedy, and the minute she gives me something, I want more. I need more.

"More."

"Would you like my mouth on you?"

"Yes!"

Her tongue takes its time to explore me. She's decided to take the advanced tour. While her fingers move in and out of me, her tongue and mouth move over my lips, gently nibbling me. It's the perfect blend of pain and pleasure, another new sensation for me. Everything I'm feeling with her is a brand new discovery, and the pleasure keeps getting more and more intense. When her mouth finally finds its way to my clit, the sensation is no less significant than the parting of the Red Sea. I can hardly find the words to describe how she feels on me. I lose all sense of what her fingers are doing versus her tongue, I'm so wrapped up in this new experience. If I had to guess, it feels like there are two different people working on me at once, the sensations are so pleasurable and erotic. When she shifts the pressure of her fingers, hooking them under my pubic bone, she strikes a chord within me. She alternates licking, sucking, and nibbling my clit while her fingers work on me from the inside, and I can feel a massive orgasm building. I've never been so turned on before. It's as though I'm a Christmas tree whose lights didn't work because one bulb was burnt out. Suddenly, from out of nowhere, all the lights come on at once. My orgasm hits me out of nowhere, without warning, and I'm certain I generate enough electricity to power the lights on several hundred Christmas trees. She keeps her mouth still over my clit as I ride out the waves.

_This is bliss. I have achieved bliss._

When I finally return to myself, I glance down at her, still poised between my legs. I sit up, leaning over to kiss her and show my appreciation for her efforts. The kiss is slow and lingering; I can taste myself on her lips, and it is incredibly hot.

When my breathing returns to normal, she moves up to my bed, tugging me along with her. She carefully, lovingly removes my corset, and my stockings, and my panties. I do the same for her. We wind our legs together, and I rest my head on her incredible tits.

_So warm. So much softer than a man. I could get used to this._

I fall asleep snuggled into this fuckhot minx's breasts. When I awaken in the morning, I'm hugging a pillow, not her. My heart starts to race, recognizing she's gone. I look around my bed for her, but she is nowhere to be found. Then I find the note.

_If you ever need a reminder of what a stunning creature you are, call me. I'm more than happy to lend a hand._

There was no signature on the note, just a phone number. At the bottom of her note, she had kissed the paper and left an outline of her red, pouty lips for me.


End file.
